Welcome, Ines Johnson!

Ana is thrilled to welcome Ines Johnson to HWH.

Ines writes books for strong women who suck at love. Aside from being a writer, professional reader, and teacher, she claims she is a very bad Buddhist. She sits in sangha each week, and while others are meditating and getting their zen on, she’s contemplating how to use the teachings to strengthen her plots and character motivations.

She says:

The first time I tried to write a book it took me one year to write the first three chapters because I agonized over each word choice. Now, I believe in fast drafting. Vomit the story onto the page without a care for comma placement. All told, it takes me about six months from the first drafted word to the final polished manuscript.

I take three to four weeks for the first draft, which I call The Dirty. I let The Dirty breath for as long as I am able to be parted with it -usually a week or two. Then I come back and Sweep up the grammar, spelling and plot holes, which usually takes another three to four weeks.

Next, I send The Swept draft out to my trusted critique partners. When it comes back I Clean it up for another three weeks focusing on my weakness, which is setting.

I’m a screenwriter, and so for years, setting only consisted of a Scene Slug. For example:

INT. BEDROOM -DAY

The Director would take it from there. But fiction readers seem to like more details, so I’m constantly working on giving them more setting description.

Finally, I send The Clean manuscript off to the copy editor for two to three weeks. When it comes back I Polish up all the commas and rethink my overused words. Then I hit publish, and start all over again!

My current release, "Pumpkin: a Cindermama Story" was written in 30 days as a part of NANO WRIMO. Since then its gone through two revisions, beta readers and a copyeditor. I was still trying to upgrade my action verbs as it was uploading to Amazon! Old habits die hard I guess!

Single mother Malika “Pumpkin” Tavares lost faith in fairytales after she fell for a toad. Town royalty Armand “Manny” Charmayne has been searching for his soulmate all his life, whom he’ll recognize at first sight by a golden aura, that only he can see, surrounding her person. Manny doesn’t see gold when he meets Pumpkin, but the more he gets to know her the more he considers defying fate, if only he can convince her to take a chance on love again.

Excerpt:

Pumpkin turned and stopped in her tracks. Not because of the near collision, but because of the Adonis who stood before her. Tall and lean with dark, thick curls atop his head. But it was his eyes that arrested Pumpkin. They took her back to her teen years, watching Donnie Simpson on Video Soul; or farther back to Smokey Robinson doo-wopping with The Miracles. They were a pale gray. And he smelled... edible. Like fresh baked, butter croissants sprinkled with earthy spices.

"Excuse me," he repeated, with a slight Southern drawl that was more refined than lazy. He prolonged his vowels just enough to let you know he was Southern, but the consonants he pronounced perfectly. "Are you Heather?"

And of course, he was looking for someone else. "No, my name is Malika."

He looked at her and squinted. Then his eyes rolled past her up the steps of the Department of Family And Child Services building. "Oh, sorry. I thought you could have been one of my volunteers." He stepped away, clearing her path to the entrance.

I thought you could have been one of my volunteers.

Pumpkin looked beyond him to see a voter registration table.

I thought you could have been one of my volunteers.

Part of her knew she should simply walk into the DFACS building to find her cousins and her son, because who knew? LaRon and LaTom could've let him go to the bathroom by himself and just forgotten about him —again. But another part of Pumpkin smarted. He'd taken one glance at her, paired it with her Eubonic-consonant-rich name, added it to her current location, and come away with an incorrect assumption.

"You know, I could have been yours," she said.

He turned back. "Mine?"

"I mean, I have done something like this before."

"Something... with me?"

"No! I've never met you before."

He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, then started again. "What exactly are we talking about?"

This was not going the way she'd planned. But what exactly had she planned when she opened her mouth? Her filter malfunction needed to be repaired soon.

Pumpkin took a deep breath, clearly aware of his smokey eyes watching her with... was that wariness or amusement? Growing up in her family, she had trouble deciphering the two.

"I mean, I have been a volunteer. I've done a voter registration drive before."

Having cleared up that misjudgment, Pumpkin assumed the conversation was over. Only, he looked doubtful at her proclamation.

Pumpkin gave her internal filter a kick. In response it sputtered, "I organized it, actually." Pumpkin gave it a mental shove to keep quiet. And then, "It was very successful, actually."

"Where?"

"What?"

"Where did the drive you organized —successfully— take place?"

"Oh," she said. "At my school. My college —university, actually. Louisiana State University."

"I know LSU," he grinned.

Good. Grinning meant amused. He had a nice grin, Smokey Eyes. Straight white teeth. Plump lips that stretched wide. Maybe a little too wide. Almost big bad wolf wide.

"Well," she said. "There's a community college with the name Louisiana so..."

"You have a problem with community colleges?"

"No! I just... I just wanted to make sure you knew... which one I meant." Pumpkin wouldn't have thought it possible, but his grin stretched even wider.

"My opinion matters to you that much?"

Definitely a wolf.

Then, in confirmation, his eyes slipped from her face and did a quick assessment of her body: the B-cups she no longer bothered to pad, the stubborn muffin top she'd given up on a year ago, the wide hips that looked voluptuous on her cousins but pear-shaped on her.

"I don't even know you," Pumpkin said. And she had no intention of getting to know him. Wolves blocked the paths of good girls whether in the forest or on the road of life. Pumpkin had no intention of getting jammed up by a man, ever again.

"Yet, within sixty seconds of meeting me," he said, "you offered to be mine."

If you rocked out to the twisted triangle of Jem, Jericha, and Rio as a girl; if you were slayed by vampires with souls alongside Buffy; if you need your scandalous fix from Olivia Pope each week, then you’ll love Ines' books.

http://www.amazon.com/Pumpkin-Cindermama-Story-Ines-Johnson-ebook/dp/B00TKP8ZMQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1423860750&sr=8-1&keywords=pumpkin+a+cindermama+story

Barnes and Noble

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pumpkin-ines-johnson/1121232758?ean=9780990922841

Kobo

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/pumpkin-a-cindermama-story

K is for Kismet

Margaret asks if kismet has affected your life.

Is it Kismet that I became a writer? I often ask myself this question. Kismet, Fate, Destiny, call it what you like. If something is going to happen it happens.

Okay, we might give it a helping hand but I believe that fate intervenes in the first place. If not where did the idea for my first book come from? Why did I go to a local park on a certain day and meet my future husband? Maybe some people call it coincidence but I prefer to call it fate.

Therefore in many of my books its fate that has brought my protagonists together. Why else would their paths cross?

How many times have you said – If I hadn’t done that …. If I hadn’t been there at that precise moment…. If I hadn’t missed the bus/train and caught another one I would never have…

It all makes sense to me.

Has kismet affected your life?

K is for Keeping Track

Debra needs a better way of organizing tid bits of information in her stories.

When I went to fill out the Cover Art sheet for my newest project "Christmas at The Corral" I was dismayed to discover I needed to look through the mss in order to find out what my characters looked like. I couldn't remember the color of her hair or either of their eyes. Now this was a story I wrote by the seat of my pants in record time, so I hadn't spent months and months with it, but it was still disturbing to think I didn't know those basics about my characters.

If I would have jotted just a few notes, I would have had something to refer back to.

As I think of more ideas for holiday spin-offs of my Corral Series, I find myself wishing I'd kept a notebook of minor character names or information about the town. Again, I need to keep going back to the stories to figure out things.

So, as I contemplate a new series, I want to keep better records. I don't tend to plot ahead, I am definitely a pantster, but I need to jot down what might at the time seem like minor details. I figure I can keep a notebook, and use sticky notes as tabs for quick access to characters (main and minor), setting information, backstory, research, etc. That way, I'll always have it at my finger tips. I don't plan on doing major character profiles, but it would be nice to have details like hair and eye color readily available. Some characters are more ingrained in my imagination, so this isn't always an issue, but sometimes in the heat of the moment I forget if she's supposed to be looking into his deep green or his deep blue eyes. Notes such as this will help with continuity throughout the series too.

Anybody have a different way to keep track of things? I've seen people who do Wikis about their stories. Or large poster boards with different color stickies for characters, setting, plot. Like I said, I'm not that much of a planner, but it will be nice to have some type of reference at my fingertips. Live and learn, right?

Until next time,

Happy Reading!

Debra
www.debrastjohnromance.com

KIlling Your Darlings

Paula has ‘killed her darlings’!

Several years ago, when I first heard the phrase ‘Kill Your Darlings’, I thought it referred to the characters an author killed off. Since I don’t write murder stories, or thrillers where characters are bumped off in a variety of gruesome ways, I thought it was something I didn’t need to think about.

However, it appears the phrase originated with Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch who wrote: Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.

He was referring to passages that you may think represent some of your best writing. I’m not sure I really have any of those, but I think it can equally refer to killing words, paragraphs, scenes, and even chapters in your story that aren’t necessary, even though you may have sweated blood over them while writing your first draft.

I had plenty of experience of this during the first dead-end drafts of ‘Irish Intrigue’. A scene where the heroine slips and breaks her ankle had to go as it proved too ‘inconvenient’ for her to be immobilised for the next few week. Similarly a Christmas Eve scene also had to go because it brought the hero and heroine together much too quickly. Although I loved both those scenes, they simply didn’t work with the rest of the story – so I had to kill them (but I’ve kept them in a separate file just in case I want to use them sometime in the future).

As well as deleting scenes that don’t work, there are also the scenes that aren’t necessary. I deleted several of these in ‘Irish Intrigue’. Two were of the heroine interacting with the hero’s two children. I thought they were necessary to show her growing relationship with them – but did the scenes need to be so long? One of them covered over two pages. Highlight and delete – ouch! I loved the scene, but managed to convey what was necessary in half a page.

Conversations, too, can be cut or at least shortened. My characters do have a tendency to rabbit on, and my huge word cull for ‘Irish Intrigue’ showed me plenty of occasions when I could cut unnecessary chunks from their conversations. In one case I deleted a whole phone conversation between my heroine and her best friend. I thought I needed it to show the heroine’s confusion and conflicted feelings, but it was actually just a rehash of information and feelings the reader already knew.

My mantra became: Does this add anything to the story or to the characters? Is it absolutely necessary? If not, out it went. I won’t say I didn’t have some regrets at times, but ‘killing my darlings’ did in the end make the story sharper and faster-paced, and I learned a lot from doing this which I hope will stand me in good stead for future stories.

K Is For Karma

Jennifer talks about payback...

I was going to talk about kisses. I really was. But then I decided that it’s not fair to my other blogging partners who come later in the week if I consistently take the “easy ones.” J So I’m passing on it and discussing karma.

Because karma is fun! Karma is destiny or fate. You know, what goes around, comes around.

And there is nothing more satisfying to an introverted writer like me who dreams of speaking up and speaking out but often doesn’t, to give people what they deserve in the books I write.

My favorite author of all time, who I’m lucky enough to interview and have appear on my other group blog in April, used to talk about how all her villains were based, at least in part, on ex-boyfriends. And after reading that, I laughed. Now, with almost 40 books to her name, I highly doubt that each villain is a unique ex-boyfriend. Rather, I suspect her villains all have certain traits shared by them.

For me, writing gives me a chance to say everything I want to say but can’t, because I’m not brave enough. While my heroes and heroines are not perfect—way too boring—they do have the perfect comeback lines. My villains perform acts that might have happened in real life, but my heroes and heroines are able to turn the situation around, the way I wish I could have. And if the villain isn’t redeemed—that’s fun and challenging too—then he or she gets what’s coming to them in the end.

Because sometimes, the writer needs her happily ever after too!

K is for Keepsake

Ana asks:  Can keepsakes can reveal things about our protagonists?

In my daughter's web series, middleamericans.com, her character has a locket with her father's picture. She shows it to everyone she meets, hoping they've seen him. Finding her father is her story goal.

The following excerpt is from my WIP. Written yesterday, it's still rough, but I think the unusual keepsake allows me to reveal a significant event in my hero's life.

            Blade lit a lamp in the barn, stood beside his saddle, and touched the leather lace that he’d knotted into a ball five years ago. Hidden inside was the ring he’d bought for Candy.

He wanted to offer it to Stormy before he…before they made love. Then he’d be able to look her fathers in the eye come sunup.

As he picked at the unforgiving knot, he relived that terrible night.

He made passionate love to Candy. As soon as he rolled off her, she got up, put on her rhinestone robe, and sat at her dressing table, fixing her hair.

Heart thumping in his chest, he waited for her to finish. Then he rose from her bed, crossed to the fireplace, where he’d removed his clothes, and fished in his pocket for the ring box. “I’ve saved enough money for us to go.”

            She turned and tore into him with a fury. “Do you still expect me to eat dirt day in and day out when you could give me a grand house with servants? When I could wear fine clothes and jewels? Eat in restaurants and attend society balls? Living on a ranch is your dream, not mine. If you loved me, you’d give me what I want.”
            He felt ripped in two. He pleaded but could not convince her. He shouted, and she laughed at him. On the verge of striking her, he hurled a brush into the dressing table mirror, shattering it and all her seductive, hollow promises into a million jagged pieces.

            Two days later, Jared announced at dinner that he and Miss Candace Kennedy were engaged to be married. She wanted a sumptuous wedding with Blade as best man.

            Olivia Masters was ecstatic. A wedding to plan. “When are you going to find a nice girl. Blade?” she’d asked.

            George Masters thumped Jared on the back. “Grandchildren.”

            Late that night, he’d packed his things and headed for Kansas.

            The knot slid free. The solo-diamond band dangled on the leather lace.

Staring at the token of his infatuation, he felt a great weight slide off his shoulders. He’d been so young and lonely, and Candy was a consummate gold digger.

His family deserved her. George, so sure of his ability to outsmart competitors. His mother, who’d lectured endlessly about good breeding and proper matches. And Jared. Poor Jared. Convinced he’d finally bested his big brother.

For years, he’d wanted to tell them about Candy, but now, it didn’t matter. He’d found what he wanted. If he had anything to regret, it was that they’d never get to meet Stormy and her family.

            One day soon, when they were caught up on work, he’d take her to Yankton and get the ring sized to fit. But by making her his fiancée now, he’d protect her from Vance and give Propserity’s gossips something new to wag their tongues about. Not a bad night’s work.

            Feeling as excited as Kris Kringle on Christmas Eve, he slipped the ring into his pocket, extinguished the light, and headed for the house.

What do you think? Are keepsakes good tools for story reveals?